


Ice Pressure

by WriteOnMyWay



Category: The Terror (TV 2018), The Terror - Dan Simmons
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriteOnMyWay/pseuds/WriteOnMyWay
Summary: (upbeat shanty music)Join the crews of HMS Erebus and HMS Terror as they set sail in the search for the Northwest Passage!
Relationships: William Gibson/Cornelius Hickey, will be updated as the madness progresses
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	Ice Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> As I promised/threatened on my Incorrect Quotes Tumblr, I'm back in the fandom and on my bullshit, huzzah and beware.
> 
> My sincerest apologies to John Finnemore, David Kajganich and Soo Hugh.

**_(clink-clank)_**  
 **BLANKY:** Good evening, gentlemen, this is your Ice Master speaking. Just to share my observations for today: there is a _lot_ of ice around us and I expect to see even _more_ tomorrow because that’s what usually happens when you sail in these waters. The ice is in bits and pieces of various sizes and they all have different names that I’m _sure_ you have all learned by now. If not – come find me and I will _happily_ explain everything _once more._ On a…  
 _ **(door sliding open)**_  
 **CROZIER:** Do I want to know why you are talking into Jopson’s clothes brush?  
 **BLANKY:** Well, I was just thinking…  
 **CROZIER:** Oh God.  
 **BLANKY _(with a little more force)_ :** I was just thinking: wouldn’t it be nice to have some sort of a system that would allow us to make announcements to the whole ship, all at once?  
 **CROZIER:** We have the bosun’s pipe.  
 **BLANKY:** I know, but…  
 **CROZIER:** And the officers.  
 **BLANKY:** Yes, but…  
 **CROZIER:** Or, if something’s _really_ important, I can gather everyone on deck and say whatever I need to say in person.  
 **BLANKY:** I just…  
 **CROZIER:** Have you been drinking?  
 **BLANKY:** No!  
 **CROZIER:** Well, I have. Get out – and leave the brush!

 _ **(upbeat shanty music)**_  
 _Ice Pressure._ Join the crews of _HMS Erebus_ and _HMS Terror_ as they set sail in the search for the Northwest Passage! This week – somewhere in the Arctic!

 _ **(wind whooshing, water splashing, footsteps)**_  
 **COLLINS:** _Terror_ is signaling, Sir John.  
 **FRANKLIN:** What are they saying?  
 **COLIINS:** I’m not sure, sir. They seem to be requesting either a nice tea-pot or an ice report.  
 **FRANKLIN:** What?  
 **FITZJAMES:** Allow me, Mr. Collins. Hmmm… My bet is on the tea-pot.  
 **COLLINS:** Maybe we could send both, sir?  
 **FRANKLIN:** No, we only have one spare tea-pot and it’s the pretty one that Jenny gave me, I’m not risking it. I better see for myself what is going on there. Tell Francis, James and I will be joining him for dinner.  
 **COLLINS:** Mr. Terry, open the flag box!

 _ **(door sliding open, heavy footsteps, chair creaks)**_  
 **BLANKY:** So how was the dinner? As bad as you thought it would be?  
 **CROZIER:** Worse. I got as drunk as I could but even that didn’t help.  
 **BLANKY:** What happened?  
 **CROZIER:** That idiot Fitzjames kept retellin’ the same stories but because Sir John didn’t stop him, everyone was forced to play along. Then he – I mean Fitzjames – declared we were too “sulky” and insisted we play that ridiculous game where you have to name admirals with a specific name. _Obviously,_ he chose “John”.  
 **BLANKY:** _Obviously._  
 **CROZIER _(hiccups):_** Then Le Vesconte suggested we cheer every time someone names an admiral at least one of us met in person – instead of drinkin’, you know, because Sir John… But you can only cheer so many times before you just _have_ to wet your whistle.  
 **BLANKY _(cackling):_** I think I see where this is going.  
 **CROZIER:** Yeah… _(hiccups again)_ There weren’t enough admirals we met so we switched to officers and explorers and then just good people we knew called John. And then we ran out of fuel. And Fitzjames started with his stories. _Again._ But this time he kept mixin’ ‘em up but instead of funny it was so annoying I wanted to punch him. I didn’t, though. Couldn’t decide which one of them to aim at – did I tell you there were two of them by the end? Two Fitzjameses… Fitzj… _Two!_ And they were talking together! At the same time!  
 **BLANKY:** Sounds horrible.  
 **CROZIER:** You bet. And then that kid got sick and Sir John said it was time for them to go.  
 **BLANKY:** Oh yeah, I heard about that. What’s wrong with the boy?  
 **CROZIER:** Apparently, the kid’s a hyponchr… hyporon… Ugh. He thought he was ill but he wasn’t. And some kind soul gave him some medicinal powder with the strict instructions to take a spoonful a day, no more. But since the kid is… well, the way he is, he downed the whole bottle in a few hours. Luckily it was nothing too harmful but he’ll be stuck in the sick bay a couple more days.  
 **BLANKY:** Good lord… But why did they move him then?  
 **CROZIER:** Sir John wants his doctor to take a look at him. From what I know about Dr. Stanley, it’s a punishment for Young for being stupid. _(yawns)_ Anyway, they finally left and Sir John clearly wasn’t impressed but the main thing was that they left, which I may have already mentioned. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get some sleep.

 _ **(shuffling, sounds of fabric being cleaned)**_  
 **HICKEY:** This is disgusting. He could’ve had the decency to turn away from me.  
 **GIBSON:** Will you stop complaining? There’s just a little bit on the sleeve and _I’m_ the one cleaning it up. And you never even said thank you.  
 **HICKEY:** Thank you, Billy.  
 **GIBSON:** _(scoffs)_  
 **HICKEY:** Aw, come on. What are you doing this evening?  
 **GIBSON:** More clean up. I swear, one of these days I’m gonna chuck Irving’s watercolors into the sea, I’m sick and tired of having to get the stuff out of pretty much everything in his cabin.  
 **HICKEY:** It could’ve been oil paint. Just saying.  
 **GIBSON:** Of course you’re _just saying._  
 **HICKEY:** You’re no fun.  
 **GIBSON:** Keep this up and I won’t tell you Irving has a diary.  
 **HICKEY:** What?!  
 **GIBSON:** Here’s your jacket. Now off you go.  
 **HICKEY:** Wait! Wait, Billy, you can’t do this to me!  
 **GIBSON:** I can and I shall – and I am going to enjoy it.  
 ** _(Hickey’s voice is quickly muffled by indistinct talking, laughter, footsteps and creaking)_**

 **YOUNG:** Am I going to live, sir? Please, tell me the truth, I can take it.  
 **GOODSIR:** Of course you’re going to live!  
 **YOUNG:** But Dr. Stanley said…  
 **GOODSIR:** He was joking.  
 **YOUNG:** He didn’t seem like he was joking.  
 **GOODSIR:** Trust me, he wasn’t serious. Look, I’m not exactly supposed to tell you, but Sir John ordered him to scare you a bit…  
 **YOUNG:** A bit?!  
 **GOODSIR:** … so that you and other men with a… similar mindset would learn not to take any medicines unless a doctor tells you to. And as much as I sympathize, David, it was very reckless of you. Next time you feel unwell, go talk to the doctor or a surgeon, that’s precisely what we are here for.  
 **YOUNG:** I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.  
 **GOODSIR:** I’m glad to hear it. Now rest. I’ll sit with you.  
 **YOUNG:** Sir?  
 **GOODSIR:** Yes?  
 **YOUNG:** Seeing as you are here, could I ask you some questions of medical nature?  
 **GOODSIR:** Of course!  
 **YOUNG:** Thank you, sir! It won’t take long.  
 _ **(water sloshing, dog barking)**_  
 **YOUNG:** …and when I bend my neck like so and hold my breath…  
 **GOODSIR _(exhausted):_** Why would you do that?  
 **YOUNG:** I’m trying to tell you, sir! So, when I bend it like this and hold my breath long enough I start to hear a peculiar ringing in my left ear. Why is that? And why in the left ear?  
 **GOODSIR:** I… Honestly, David, I haven’t a faintest idea.  
 **YOUNG:** Oh, speaking of fainting! Last time…  
 **GOODSIR:** _(groans)_

 _ **(boots thudding)**_  
 **COLLINS:** Observe my signals. One pull on the tube means half a fathom’s slack. Two means the tube is kinked, likely on the gunwale. Three – pull me up, and you better hurry when I signal that because there might be water in the suit.  
 **ORREN:** Shouldn’t there be a special signal for that so we’d know for sure? Like, four pulls or something?  
 **COLLINS:** Are you really going to count to see if I’m drowning or just finished my job? Do as you’re told and stop confusing me before the dive!  
 **ORREN:** Sorry, sir.  
 **COLLINS:** Could we call a surgeon here?

 _ **(heavy footsteps)**_  
 **FRANKLIN:** They’re just below, Mr. Collins. Proceed.  
 _ **(helmet clunking and clicking, men shouting orders, pulley creaking, water splashing)**_  
 **FITZJAMES:** Brrr, I wouldn’t want to go there. Too dark. _(excited gasp)_ Do you think one day we’ll have lanterns that would burn even underwater?  
 **FRANKLIN:** With this imagination of yours, James, you could be a great writer.  
 **FITZJAMES:** You’re too kind, sir. But what if… Hey, what’s with the tube? Orren, how many pulls?  
 **ORREN:** I…  
 **FITZJAMES:** Christ Almighty, haul him up!  
 ** _(instant commotion, indistinct shouting and cursing, pulley creaking)_**  
 ** _(heavy thud)_**  
 **COLLINS:** F-finally… _(gulps)_ Propeller’s bent. One of the blades. I pried some ice from behind, she should spin now, sir.  
 **FITZJAMES:** Is there anything else to report?   
**COLLINS:** N-no, sir.  
 **FRANKLIN:** Capital job, Mr. Collins! Graham, let the engineers know and signal _Terror,_ have Captain Crozier bring his lieutenants over. We need to confer about the ice that’s in front of us now and it’s better to do it on our territory.  
 **GORE:** Sir.  
 **FRANKLIN:** I envy you, Mr. Collins. I’ve long wanted to move below – if not for this bloody arthritis… Anyway, what was it like?  
 **COLLINS:** Like a dream, sir.  
 **FRANKLIN:** Well said. Well said, indeed.  
 _ **(footsteps** **fading** **away)**_  
 **ORREN:** Was it really like a dream, sir?  
 **COLLINS:** More like a nightmare. Cold, dark and nobody’s reacting to my distress signal.  
 **ORREN:** But I thought you didn’t have one?  
 **COLLINS:** Give me that flask and go before I get out of this thing.

 _ **(clinking of tea-cups and saucers, door opening and closing)**_  
 **LITTLE:** So?  
 **IRVING:** How’s Captain Crozier?  
 **JOPSON:** As he always is after a meeting with Sir John. Hurt. Angry. Getting drunker by the minute.  
 **LITTLE:** Oh dear.  
 **IRVING:** Is there anything we can do to help?  
 **LITTLE:** What _can_ we do? You’ve heard and seen it yourself, Sir John said his final word, only some… I don’t know… divine or supernatural interference could potentially make him change his mind.  
 **IRVING:** Well, maybe he’s not _that_ wrong? I mean, they did choose him as the leader of the expedition, so he must know what he’s talking about. And Captain Crozier – as much as I respect him – is indeed prone to pessimism.  
 **LITTLE:** I wonder why.  
 **IRVING:** As are _you,_ Edward. Seriously, it can’t be that bad – not with such leaders, such ships and crews! Here we are closer to God than anywhere else, so He will surely hear our prayers and help us, if need be.  
 _ **(loud** **crash)**_  
 **CROZIER _(muffled):_** ‘S not a melodrama, ’s a bloody _comedy!_ Of the worst kind!  
 _ **(indistinct shouting and stomping fading away)**_  
 **LITTLE:** For all our sakes, let’s hope you are right.

 **LE VESCONTE _(chewing something crunchy)_ :** A-a e-e eely shtuck?  
 **FITZJAMES:** What?  
 **LE VESCONTE** _(gulps):_ I said: are we really stuck?  
 **FITZJAMES:** Yes, yes, we are. For all that ice-picking and explosions… How the hell can you eat right now?!  
 **LE VESCONTE:** I’m nervous. I always eat when I’m nervous, you know that.  
 **FITZJAMES:** Everyone’s nervous but nobody’s stuffing themselves like you are!  
 **LE VESCONTE** _**(opens a metal box):**_ I can share – see, there’s plenty more. Here, have a biscuit, you seem a bit out of sorts, too.  
 **FITZJAMES** _**(quietly):**_ Where did you get these?  
 **LE VESCONTE:** The cook – what’s his name – was rearranging his stuff and almost dropped the thing. I caught it and said I’d hold onto it if he didn’t have enough space for his supplies. He seemed reluctant – probably didn’t want to bother me – but I assured him it was no problem and I was happy to help. Admittedly, it’s a bit awkward now, but he can always bake more, right?  
 **FITZJAMES:** _Wrong._ Those were _my_ biscuits. Only one shop in London sells them and I bought the very last box as a _Christmas treat_ for the officers, and in order to do that I had to physically fight through a mob of angry old ladies armed with umbrellas. It cost me my dignity, a pair of excellent new stockings and a veritable small fortune.  
 **LE VESCONTE:** O-oh…  
 **FITZJAMES:** _Exactly._ Now tell me, _how on earth_ is Mr. Wall supposed to bake something like that i _n the middle of frozen nowhere?!_ Tell me, and maybe, _just maybe,_ I won’t kick your…  
 **LE VESCONTE:** _(crunch)_  
 **FITZJAMES:** _Right!_

 _ **(upbeat shanty music)**_  
This was _Ice Pressure,_ starring the crews of _HMS Erebus_ and _HMS Terror._ If you enjoyed it, please show your appreciation via flag signals or by leaving a like and stay tuned for the next episode!


End file.
